Page 9 of Playing Pretend

“I already know the rules.” He stops before the wall of elevators and presses the call button. “I need to remain professional.”

I smile, sugary sweet. “We’re going to need a lot more stipulations than that if you’re going to live through the night.”

He smirks. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided this isn’t going to be easy after all.”

“It’s still going to be easy. I just don’t want it to be humiliating.”

“Admit it—you’re flustered already.” He turns to me, peering down with lazy bedroom eyes as he reaches out to guide a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “And I’m only getting started.”

My throat dries.

It takes every ounce of control not to drown in a teenage resurgence of misguided chemistry. Instead, I chance a quick glance around reception, making sure none of my colleagues are around before I smack his hand away. “Stop it.”

He snickers. “Why? Aren’t I allowed to help my girlfriend keep hair off her beautiful face?”

My stomach does an awkward twist at how easilygirlfriendtumbles from his lips. “You’re being a brat.” The elevator to our left opens and I stalk inside. “This might be fun for you, but don’t forget this is my work.”

He follows and moves to stand in front of the control panel to press number three. “This is work for me, too. It’s important that I determine how you function under pressure.”

“I function just fine.”

“Your honor, the current evidence would disagree.” He leans back against the side wall, casual and composed as ever.

He’s put extra effort into his appearance today. The expensive suit pants and button-down are a deliberate show of wealth. The top two buttons of his shirt are open for visual appeal, along with the tousled hair that frames his eyes.

“I’m not going to have a problem getting through the next three nights with you, Rome. However, therewillbe strict ground rules. We’re not playing this game at the cost of my current job.”

“Since when is this a game? Rett offered you a chance to work with us earlier than previously agreed. But that comes at a price. You need to prove you’re ready. That you can handle whatever I throw at you. Because in a fast-paced, multi-million-dollar work environment I can assure you there are going to be more shocking things to deal with than a chaste peck to the temple.”

Heat blooms beneath my sternum.

I need to get a damn hold of myself.

“Being a realtor is one thing,” he continues. “Dealing with billionaire investors who tend to see women as nothing more than a distraction is another.”

“I know what powerful, middle-aged men are like. I’ve dealt with them before.”

“Not at our level you haven’t.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “So that’s the role you’re playing this weekend? A middle-aged chauvinist who sees me as a piece of ass?”

“Not at all. I’m your boyfriend. I’m merely trying to explain why I’m not going to make this easy.”

“Well, I won’t stand for you humiliating me in front of my colleagues.” The elevator doors open, allowing me to escape into the hall. “These people are my friends.”

“I’m not going to humiliate you.” He follows, taking the lead toward the suites. “But I have every intention of testing you.” He stops before room 305, grabs his card from his pants pocket, and places it against the security panel.

“Test all you like.” I exude confidence I seriously don’t feel. “I can—”

“Piper?” a familiar voice calls.

I turn to the stretching hall and find my friend—the office marketing manager—walking toward us in a flowing blue sundress, her attention affixed on Rome. “Hey, Cassidy.”

She pauses a few feet away, her face brightening. “I didn’t realize you were bringing someone.”

I swallow back my unease. I had a script prepared for how to address this, but now that my fake boyfriend has already spoken to my boss, I’m not sure how to proceed. “It was a last-minute change of plan.”

“Blame me. I refused to endure a weekend without her.” Rome places my suitcase against the door to hold it open, then offers Cassidy his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard great things.”

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